


shitting unicorns and vomiting glitter

by Slythstiel



Series: Hate to Love Destiel! [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Grumpy!Cas, M/M, Married Couple, Protective Dean Winchester, Sick Castiel, Sickfic, Sleep, Sleepy Castiel, Softie!Dean, its super cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slythstiel/pseuds/Slythstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cas is a stubborn ass, and Dean just wants to take care of him.</p><p>At first, Dean really wants to wipe the pouty frown off of Cas’ lips by tucking him back into bed, but all that heat can’t possibly be good. Dean’s no doctor, but by the way things are looking, Castiel doesn’t need more heat. He’s a grown man, a grown man with a very grown husband, a husband who doesn’t need tucking or babying. But is that stopping Dean?<br/>Not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shitting unicorns and vomiting glitter

**Author's Note:**

> this actually took me almost a month to write because i had been sooooooooo busy, i wrote like, a couple of sentences a day, but today i just sat down and finished the god damn thing aha

Dean strolls through the office, shitty office coffee in hand as he head into Cas’ office. Inside Cas’ office, it’s freezing. Dean shivers, striding towards the window and snapping it shut. He sighs when the icy winter winds stop blasting through the room.  
“Jesus, Cas! It’s freezing.” He frets, glancing over to Cas.  
“Dean, fuck off, it’s hot.” Comes Cas’ muffled reply, and Dean shakes his head.  
Cas’ suit jacket is thrown into the corner, his head down on his desk. This catches Dean’s attention, worried, he taps Cas’ shoulder.  
“Hey, you ok?” He asks, crouching down until he’s knee level with Cas.  
Blearily, Cas raises his head, sniffing as he pouts.  
“Yes, Dean. I’m perfectly fine, I mean just look at me, I’m fucking shitting unicorns and vomiting glitter!” He snaps sarcastically.  
Dean grumbles under his breath about bitch attitude, but sighs.  
“You’re burning.” Dean furrows his eyebrows, feeling Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Sure enough, Castiel’s temperature seems above normal. He doesn’t look too well either, “flu,” Dean mutters, kissing Cas’ temple.  
Cas’ eyes are glassy, tired and his skin is flushed hot. His shirt is unbuttoned down a few, revealing his chest, radiating heat.  
“I love this.” Cas mutters, turning away from Dean to let out a violent cough. Dean winces, the cough hacks out of Cas’ throat, almost like it’s ripping out of his body.  
“You should go home.” Dean suggests, cocking his head to the side. Cas shakes his head, waving it off dismissively.  
“I’ll be fine.” He tells Dean, clearing his throat to get rid of the obvious rasp. Dean looks away, slightly guilty. It looks as if Cas’ been sick for almost a few days now, and Dean can’t help but blame himself. How had he not noticed? He’d been so wrapped up with his work; he hadn’t noticed that poor Cas had caught the flu.  
“No, home.” Dean won’t let Cas talk him out on this matter. He doesn’t want Cas to get sicker.  
Cas watches him, eyes flickering towards Dean’s face before a sigh escapes his lips.  
“This isn’t because you said so, Winchester,” Castiel says finally, and then sighs again.  
“Can you come home, too?” He asks, looking up to Dean with tired, blue eyes. Dean looks away, contemplating. He has a lot he needs to take care of here, but if he lets Cas go home alone, the fucker’ll fall asleep at the wheel and kill himself. So he nods reluctantly, “c’mon, lets go.” Cas doesn’t even bother grabbing any of the work he needs to do at home, Dean figures he’s accepted how sick he is. But Dean does throw away the coffee and tidies up the room a little, making sure all the windows are closed.  
“Dean, c’mon!” Cas whines by the door, head resting against the doorframe. Dean rolls his eyes, but hurries over, one hand on the small of Cas’ back, the other holding Cas’ jacket as he guides Cas out.  
Back at the apartment, Dean wastes no time stripping Cas down into a loose t-shirt and boxers, picking him up and gently setting him down on the couch.  
“Just wait here,” Dean instructs, snatching a couple of blankets from the closet and tucking Cas into three of them.  
“I’m not a baby.” Cas grumbles, voice muffled under the blankets, but Dean simply slaps the back of his head, “you’re sick.” He replies, turning the TV on.  
Cas huffs, but manages to wiggle his arms out of the blankets when Dean comes back with Tylenol, “come here.”  
Dean laughs a little, shaking his head.  
“Eat this first.” He says, holding out the two pills and a water bottle. Cas takes them eagerly, swallowing them easily. And then Dean crawls under the blankets with Cas.  
It’s really warm, but Cas is warmer, almost burning and it worries Dean. But he doesn’t voice his concern, and instead, cuddles Cas close to his chest. He can feel Cas’ hot breath against his collar, and Dean kisses the top of Cas’ damp head. Fuck, something is wrong.  
Cas is nodding off against Dean’s chest, and regretfully, Dean shakes his awake.  
“Huh, what…?” Cas’ speech is slurred, but Dean just starts to remove the blankets from Cas and the couch.  
“What’re you doing?” Cas asks sleepily, and Dean wants to scream and hold Cas to his chest and never let go, but instead, he gets rid of all the blankets, and hands Cas the water.  
“Drink.” He says gently, and keeps insisting until all the water has disappeared.  
“We’re gonna move this party to the bedroom, ok?” Dean says, chuckling a little.  
Cas looks to tired to move, but he stands up on wobbly feet. Cas is up for approximately 0.01 seconds before his knees buckle and he falls back onto the couch. Dean grimaces, crouching down to Cas’ level and scooping him into his arms.  
“I can walk.” Cas informs Dean with a shaky voice, squirming a little. Dean shakes his head; even now Castiel is so stubborn.  
“Cas? Shut up, lemme take care of you.” Dean mumbles, lips brushing Cas’ ear. There’s a small snort from Cas as Dean walks, gently dropping him onto their bed. Cas is still coughing up a storm, each cough sounding more and more like Cas’ll break from the inside.  
At first, Dean really wants to wipe the pouty frown off of Cas’ lips by tucking him back into bed, but all that heat can’t possibly be good. Dean’s no doctor, but by the way things are looking, Castiel doesn’t need more heat. He’s a grown man, a grown man with a very grown husband, a husband who doesn’t need tucking or babying. But is that stopping Dean?  
Not really.  
Even if their apartment is a tad bit small, the bathtub is big enough, so Dean starts up the water. The temperature is in the middle, a bit more on the cold side. He fills it up a quarter of the way before Dean helps Cas to his feet, picking him up again and helping him into the tub. There’s an immediate full body shiver that seems to wake Cas right up, but Dean isn’t done. He takes off the shirt and leaves Cas in his boxers.  
“Dean, what the…” Cas looks surprised, and even a little annoyed. But he’s shivering too much to say anything else.  
“Gonna cool you down.” Dean explains, running the tap a little colder, gradually so Cas doesn’t freeze, up until the water is up to Cas’ chest. Dean uses one arm to dunk Cas into the water, slowly until he’s neck deep.  
“Just until your temperature goes down.” Dean promises, dashing out of the bathroom and quickly grabbing the thermometer from the drawer. Dean almost heads back, but then he grabs another pair of dry boxers and thin cotton t-shirt, throwing them in the dryer to heat up.  
Dean’s never been one to worry. It’s always been more of a roll through the situation until it gets better kind of thing. But this is Cas, and to say that he doesn’t want Cas sick would be an understatement. So, Mr. Never Worries is suddenly a bit too worried, checking Cas’ temperature until it slowly but surely wears down from 104 degrees to 101.7. Yet it isn’t a good temperature, it’s not normal.  
Eventually – even though Dean wants the temperature a bit more, he takes pity on his shivering beauty and helps him out of the tub.  
“How’re you feeling?” Dean asks cautiously, insisting on drying Cas down. He has the warm boxers and shirt ready, stripping Cas down of the wet boxers, planting a soothing kiss to his hipbone and helping him wriggle into the warm clothes.  
“Like I’m Jack from Titanic.” Cas grumbles above him, and Dean snickers, “please, we all know you’d be Rose.”  
That earns him a slap to his head, but it’s worth it, seeing the small curve of Cas’ mouth tilt up.  
Castiel is okay to walk, even though Dean does trails centimeters behind him.  
He then carries his worry through a bit more by letting Cas lay down into a nest of pillows, settling a thin sheet over his wracking body.  
“It’s so cold.” Castiel says through clicking teeth, and Dean fights it, damn he fights it because Cas needs to shiver this stupid fever off, but instead, he gives into those big blue eyes and nestles Cas up in blankets.  
“I swear…” He trails off, but Cas isn’t paying attention.  
“I’m hungry.” He states, and Dean shakes his head fondly, rubbing the cut of Castiel’s jaw, “I’m gonna get you something to eat.”  
“I’ll wait here.” Comes the sarcastic reply, and Dean rolls his eyes. Honestly, Cas thinks of himself as a shit cook. Sure, his pies are hard, his toast is burnt, his eggs are runny and bland, but compared to Dean, Cas is a professional chef. Too bad Cas isn’t aware of Dean’s…lack of talent. They rarely eat breakfast, or if they do, it’s at a diner or Starbucks. Lunch is done at work, and when it’s Dean’s turn for dinner, it’s easy to mess around with the pots and pans and put out some mashed potatoes and meatloaf from the diner a couple blocks away. So far, Cas doesn’t know about Dean’s lack of everything talent, even if it’s been five months. Dean feels a little bad, honestly, he isn’t being truthful with Cas, even if it’s for his benefit and the benefit of not starting a fire in their tiny kitchen. But he decides he can hold off the honesty for a while longer, and instead, makes some of the chicken noodle soup from the can.  
“Sorry, took me a while.” He says apologetically, “it’s not homemade, didn’t wanna keep you waiting.”  
And then Dean realizes he’s talking to himself, and that Castiel is fast asleep, curled up into a tiny ball of small sighs and occasional coughs.Dean sets the soup and the bottle of Tylenol he brought with him on the desk by Cas’ files, unable to stop smiling.

Cas is fast asleep, but Dean feels his forehead, out of instinct before he, too slides under the sheets, spooning Cas up from behind. It makes his heart throb, how easily Cas snuggles back, unknowing and deep in sleep.  
Dean isn’t a softie, he isn’t. But Cas is warm and pliant, willing to completely let himself go in such a vulnerable position, letting Dean stick thermometers in his mouth and dunk him in ice water. It’s trust. Trust in its finest form, and it’s the trust given to _Dean_.  
And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

 

**Author's Note:**

> credit for the art goes completely to the drawer and the link to which i found it from http://psych0-olll3city.tumblr.com/post/65492833819/messy-doodle-cuz-im-lazy-v#notes if this person wants their art removed, please tell me and i'll take it down. :)


End file.
